


Five Lives Kirk and McCoy Didn't Live

by zarabithia



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boxers, M/M, Prostitution, Role Reversal, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 19:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Five alternate worlds that Jim and Bones might have known each other in.





	Five Lives Kirk and McCoy Didn't Live

"Of all the stupid, reckless, headstrong, dumb ass things to pull..."

Every word coming out of Leonard McCoy's mouth was true, of course. But that didn't mean that Jim was going to forgive him any sooner. Jim's opponent had certainly lived up to his stage name - Jim's head really did feel like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it - and Jim didn't need McCoy's chastising on top of it.

"Come on, kid, wake up. I've already taken your vital signs. I know you aren't dead."

Jim cracked an eye open, which, as it turned out, was almost as stupid as the decision to get into the ring with The Sledgehammer in the first place. "I appreciate the sentiment, McCoy. Shame someone couldn't have called an _actual_ doctor."

Wasn't that normal operating procedure when you got the shit beaten out of you by an opponent to the point where you collapsed in the ring?

"I might only be a washed up old fighter, but I've been in the ring enough to know that you'll make it, no matter how much you shouldn't have stood a chance against that guy."

"Always bringing the vote of confidence," Jim retorted sarcastically as he sat up. The room spun, and Jim was displeased to see that there was a considerable amount of blood both on the bench he'd been lying on and the floor beneath him. His stomach was also displeased by the faint odor of vomit that lingered in the air, though Jim didn't see any.

Of course, his eyes were pretty well swollen shut, too.

McCoy reached out to steady him, and to his displeasure, Jim was too disoriented to shrug off the hand like he wanted to. He was, after all, still pissed off at McCoy.

"Probably a concussion," McCoy muttered.

"Since when do you care?" Jim answered. "This time last week, you weren't interested in me at all. Said I didn't have any potential."

"I didn't say that," McCoy denied. "I said you were a foolish kid who didn't have any love for the sport and only wanted to ride your late father's coattails to fame and fortune."

"Gee, I don't know how I ever confused the two."

"And apparently, to prove me wrong, you sought out the slimiest dirt bag in the boxing industry -"

"Hey, Harry's not that bad."

"He's not that bad! That's why he put you in a futile fight without an ounce of training?"

"I trained." McCoy snorted at that, and Jim couldn't really argue with him. That mile run each day probably didn't count as much training, in retrospect. Especially since it had only lasted three days. "Look, if you think he did such a lousy job, why don't you show me what a real coach can do?"

They'd been here before. Well, not in a puddle of Jim's blood in an empty locker room the size of Jim's bathroom back home, but they'd had this discussion before - four times, in fact. So Jim was ready for the denial that was going to come out of McCoy's mouth.

"Apparently, I'm going to have to, if I don't want your fool ass to get killed."

"Wait...is that a _yes_?"

"You're going to have to work hard. There might be some _potential_," McCoy spat the word out, as though it hurt his mouth to say it as much as it hurt Jim's mouth to _smile_ at the idea of getting trained by the legendary former fighter. And that was _a lot._ "But it's reckless potential. It needs molded into something better, something you can actually use."

"I'll work hard," Jim promised. "Harder than anyone you've ever trained."

McCoy snorted again. "And no whining when the other boys beat you in practice. Sulu hits pretty damn hard, but that pretty face of yours is just going to have to learn how to take it."

"I can take it, Bones," Jim promised.

McCoy winced at his old stage name. "Never, ever call me that again."

Jim chuckled. That was one piece of advice he had no intention of ever following. He and Bones were going to be a great team, and next year, they'd kick Finnegan's ass.

\-----------

Jim gave one final glance around the Iowa shipyard. The hope was still in him that maybe, just maybe, Carol would show up. She wouldn't change her mind, of course. No one was as stubborn as Carol Marcus when she made up her mind about something - wasn't that half the reason he fell madly in love with her? - but maybe she could come and say goodbye one final time.

But instead of Carol's lovely face to bid him goodbye, it was Christopher's friendly hand. "Jim, the rest of the cadets are all aboard. It's time to go."

Jim pasted on a fake grin and turned to face the man who had meant so much to his parents, and in time, meant the same to him. "You flyboys are all the same. Always so damn impatient to get in the sky."

"Tell that to someone who doesn't know that you used to sit on Winnie's lap when she was taking the shuttles out for a test run," Chris retorted. "The only real question anyone has is why you've waited this long to join Starfleet."

"Ah, but you and I know the reason." With a legend for a father, the Starfleet burden was pretty damn heavy. The fact that Jimmy's momma hated the idea of either kid in space was an added incentive. His brother might have remembered and loved their father, but their mom and Chris were all Jim had ever had.

"Because Winnie allowed you to spend too many summers with crazy old Uncle Frank in Idaho?" Chris' opinion of "Crazy" Uncle Frank was pretty low, and Jim had to admit that he could be a real bastard when he had too much to drink, particularly when he got on his kick about the back to Earth movement, but the rest of the time the man was a brilliant physician. Crazy as Uncle Frank might have been, he was up there with Chris and Jim's mother in the influence department.

"Haha. I am shocked, just shocked, to hear you suggest such a thing," Jim said sarcastically. He gave one final glance down the dirt road leading to the ship yard before he gave in and turned towards the ship.

"I'm sorry to hear about Carol," Chris said lowly.

"The first day of med school they warned us that if we wanted a family, we should go find another job," Jim answered with a lightness he didn't feel. Maybe he should have gone to study genetics. If he had, maybe he and his wife wouldn't have grown apart so damn fast.

Maybe, if he'd been plain old James Kirk, Ph.D., the courts would have thought he deserved some visitation with their unborn son.

"Her loss is Starfleet's gain," Chris answered. "Which I suppose is really the worse thing in the world I could have said."

"Pretty much," Jim agreed tightly. "Tell me about this cadet of yours you want to keep an eye on. It will help sooth the urge to punch you in the face."

"His name's Leonard McCoy. The only genius level repeat offender in the coastal United States."

"Repeat juvenile offenders. Just what Starfleet needs."

"Why, Jim, was that sarcasm I heard?" Pike grinned. "He's going to be something, Jim. And I can't keep an eye on him twenty-four hours a day. That's why I need you."

"All those years of medical school and I get relegated to being a babysitter for Starfleet's human experiment," Jim sighed and walked wearily onto the shuttle.

It didn't take him long to find Leonard McCoy. He was the only cadet on the shuttle whose face looked like it was having an allergic reaction to an entire crate of Cardassian Mudworms.

"Nah. Just a little fist fight," McCoy assured him. "How was I to know that the pointy-eared-bastard -" here, he stopped and glared at the Vulcan two rows away from them, "Carried his own personal squad of ass-kickers?"

"You don't sound like you're from Iowa," Jim remarked, as he began to patch up the man's skin. "What were you doing in that bar?"

"I'm most certainly not from around here. But are you kidding? With Starfleet moving all of their ship building to Riverside, this is where all the action is. If you're into that sort of thing, that is."

Jim had been into that sort of thing once. He was too old for that shit these days. "This should make the swelling go down," he promised, sticking a hypospray into the boy's neck.

"Ow. Are you sure you know what you're doing with that thing?"

Jim grinned at him. "Doctor James T. Kirk, at your service, cadet."

McCoy stuck out his hand. "Leonard Horatio McCoy at your service, Doctor. Now I have to warn you, I might throw up on you. I have a little bit of a fear of space and confined spaces, you might say."

"You do realize Starfleet operates in space and _in confined spaces_?" Jim pointed out. Oh, what _was_ Chris thinking recruiting this guy?

"Yup. That's part of what makes it an adventure," McCoy said cheerfully.

Jim was pretty sure he heard the Vulcan two rows away sigh at the statement. Jim was in total agreement with the pointy-eared-bastard.

\-----------

Dammit, they didn't pay him enough for this, Leonard thought grumpily as he watched his last customer go. Why the hell Uhura couldn't just give him the normal customers Leonard didn't know. Preferably, he could have been given ones who weren't so damn cranky, and who didn't insist on a bunch of kinks that were far beyond Leonard's comfort level.

But Leonard kept that smile plastered on his face until after the Ambassador had left. Cursing the freaky green-blooded bastard, and all of his species as a whole for kinks that might not _actually_ have been universal among their people, Leonard stood up, wrapped a towel around his waist, and began to clean up the best he could. Sure, Uhura had a great maid to do the dirty work, but Leonard didn't see any reason Keenser should have to see remnants of _every _bit of Leonard's act.

He was mid-way through putting the toys away when the door to his quarters opened again. Hoping it was a nice glass of sweet tea - too early in the day for a mint julep, at least according to the bartender. Then again, Pike could be a real bastard sometimes.

"Dammit, Uhura, it's too soon for another round," he stated irritably, as he saw that instead of Chef Gaila's sweet tea delivery, it was his boss with a pretty young thing that was looking over the left over toys with interest.

"I'd say so. It doesn't even look like you've had time to shower yet," the kid remarked. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Or, rather, it doesn't _smell_ like you have."

"My last client left five minutes ago. I haven't had time to shower yet, kid. So if you can't find a solitary other hooker in Miss Uhura's very large establishment, you're just going to have to deal with sloppy seconds," Leonard retorted.

Uhura raised up one hand to silence both their arguments. "That's enough. He isn't a client, Leonard. He's a new employee."

"James Kirk," the kid announced, extending his hand.

_Kirk_? Oh, Leonard knew that name. "Rebelling against the family name, are we?"

Kirk flashed him a smile with just enough bite to let Leonard know he'd hit paydirt. "Not all the Kirks are good at the same things," he pointed out. Which of course, was a polite way of ignoring Leonard's question.

"He's new here, and I've explained the basic rules, but I want you to take him under your wing and give him a better idea of how we function around here," Uhura explained. "This is his first... _high class_ brothel."

"But not my first _brothel_," Kirk pointed out, and Bones was glad that all of Chapel's physical exams were thorough ones. Those earthside brothels could be a breeding ground for all sorts of nasty diseases. "I'm not going to break any of your rules, Uhura."

Uhura gripped the the whip in her belt - the one that fell just above her skirt hemline - and pressed her lips together in a tight line. "Perhaps you can begin by reiterating the proper forms of address, Leonard," she said, before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Kirk looked at the door in confusion. "You know, I seem to piss her off an awful lot. Haven't quite figured out why yet."

"It's Miss Uhura, kid. Never without the proper respect for our boss," Leonard said with a sigh. "It gives an air of respectability to a place."

"Must be quite a feat for a place known throughout the galaxy for being a good place to fuck," Kir remarked. He leaned back on the dresser. "So, Miss Uhura wants us to get to know each other why? Forming a bond with you isn't going to make me any better of a lay."

"We all do the same thing when we come here. I had to do it with Pike, before he got caught up in a nasty customer who liked it a little rougher than he could handle. He's the bartender now, and I'll introduce you later," Leonard answered. "And there are rules that I'm sure they didn't have in whatever backwater brothel you came from."

"Iowa," Kirk confirmed. "And hey, there's nothing wrong with the brothels in Iowa. I'll have you know I was making a pretty good wage back there."

And Leonard had been making a good wage back when he'd been servicing bored, rich, southern women and men instead of bored, rich ambassadors. He missed those days sometimes.

"Well, you're not in Iowa anymore, kid." Leonard tossed the rest of the toys in the box and decided to leave the rest of the task up to Keenser.

"Hey, where are you going?" Kirk demanded, as Leonard opened the door.

"I need a shower," Leonard answered. "I'm going to go take one, before my next client arrives."

Kirk grinned, with a little less bite than he'd had before. Or maybe it was just a whole different kind of bite, and Leonard wasn't noticing it as well. "It's your job to show me around the showers, isn't it?"

Leonard stifled a groan. Kid wasn't at all subtle. But people in their profession rarely had to be. "Sure, kid. C'mon, I'll show you around, and you can show me what you've got."

The kid was a little eager, but Leonard couldn't deny that he was a nice change of pace from the usual fuck that employees of Miss Uhura's brothel usually received.

\-----------

Jane leaned her head back onto the pillow that Bones was actually, honest to god, trying to fluff.

She was a starship captain. She didn't need a pillow to be fluffed, for fuck's sake. Besides, it made her head hurt even worse than it already did.

"Bones, stop _fussing_," Jane implored him. "I'm fine."

"Oh, I'm sorry. For a minute, I forgot which one of us was a doctor, _Doctor_ Kirk," Bones grumped. "But certainly, I bow to your superior medical knowledge as to which one of us would know whether the patient is _fine._"

"Normally, I love your sarcasm, _Doctor_ McCoy," Jane said crossly. "But just this one time, do you think you could refrain from it? I only ask because the sedative my _doctor_ gave me has resulted in a headache the size of Iowa."

Bones looked guilty the minute she'd said it, and Jane felt a little tingle of something that was probably guilt herself. Of course, it being in her stomach, it was hard to tell. It might have been guilt, it might have been the overwhelming nausea from the sedative.

Either way, Bones stopped fussing long enough to sit down in the chair beside her bed, and for that, the captain in her was grateful - even if the woman beneath the captain's uniform had residual guilt left over.

"I'm sorry," Bones apologized, unnecessarily.

Jane gave a little shrug. "It's not your fault that my body's fucked up."

"Well, it really is," Bones agreed. Not that Jane expected him to do otherwise, because they'd been doing trial and error with her medications since they'd met on that shuttle to the Academy. "I'm your doctor. I should have anticipated that your body would have had a reaction to that particular drug."

"So put a note in my file, and we won't worry about it next time," Jane argued reasonably. Despite the reputation to the contrary, she could be reasonable. Sometimes.

"At least you didn't have a reaction to the procedure," Bones muttered.

"So...we're still calling it a procedure? Instead of what it actually was?" Okay, her bouts of reasonableness were not particularly consistent. Jane figured she was owed a few liberties, given her body's completely unreasonable rejection of the sedative she'd been given.

Bones gave a shrug. "We both know what it was, kid."

"Which is why it's stupid to keep dancing around actually calling it by name," Jane replied. "Look, you're obviously having issue with 'the procedure' so let's hash it out now and clear the air." Because this sure as hell was the last day she was taking off work to deal with any side effects of "the procedure."

Not that she would have taken the day off in the first place, if her first officer and CMO weren't in the habit of ganging up on her, dammit.

"No, I'm not," Bones argued.

"Bullshit."

"I don't have any ... issues... with you not having the baby," Bones said firmly. "Maybe you're projecting a little."

"You're the one who likes being a parent," Jane pointed out, as gently as she could, not that bringing up Joanna was ever a subject she could do with particular gentleness. "You're the one who buys into that family stuff."

"We would have been terrible parents," Bones answered.

Well, Jane wasn't so sure about that. She knew a thing or two about terrible parents, considering the two back in Iowa, and she was pretty sure that she and Bones could have done better than her mom and Frank.

But maybe not. Maybe one of their kids would have ran away, and the other tried to kill herself, long before they had a chance to be adults. Because, really, that's how badly she and Bones would have to fail in order to qualify for the "terrible parents" that Jane was used to.

"A starship isn't any place for a family," she finally replied, because now really wasn't the time to hash out all their variable issues.

Bones' hand crossed over her stomach lightly, before giving it a gentle squeeze. "A starship isn't any type of place for a family that includes children," he corrected. "But I wouldn't rule out families entirely."

Just in case Jane had missed the point, Bones leaned over and kissed her, to further drive home his point. The kisses made her head ache less, and Jane was happy to allow him to think she really was that oblivious.

\-----------

He'd watched and waited, ever so patiently. His doctor was stubborn, so set in his ways and determined to help so many people. Jim knew – mostly through two centuries worth of wandering both the New and Old Worlds – that people like McCoy needed to be caught at their lowest point. Only after they had no real reason left to believe in any “goodness” that they'd ever been fooled into believing humanity possessed, would they be adequate candidates for the existence Jim offered.

It wasn't, as Gary and Carol had both insisted before, the most comfortable of existences. And though Jim had been angry with the sense of betrayal he'd felt when he'd staked them both, he had to admit that the existence was even more miserable when you were actually happy in life.

Perhaps if Jim had ever known that kind of existence during his all too brief life, he might not have taken to the new existence with such relish. Maybe he wouldn't have enjoyed the pounding of his victim's hearts as his teeth dug into their flesh, or found such pleasure when their cries dwindled as their bodies were drained of energy.

Perhaps his sire had been correct, and it really did matter who that first victim was. Maybe taking out that rage on his cruel stepfather and uncaring mother had been reason enough to set him on a path that he might otherwise have distasteful.

Maybe the fact that the first drop of blood been one of victory and vengeance had been the reason that his own sire had never needed to shove a stake into his chest, and why he'd never whined or cried as pathetically as Gary and Carol had.

At least, Jim believed that was the answer. That was why he waited, so patiently, for his doctor to fall into a similar situation. It was a full 15 years after first laying eyes on the good doctor that Jim's choice presented itself. The war that the doctor disagreed with, but fought in only to save lives, stepped in and took away not only the home the doctor loved so much, but the wife and daughter he'd loved, too.

Finding the distraught doctor among the ruins of his home, Jim smiled as McCoy's bullet hit him. “We don't really have time to play tickling games, do we, doctor?” he asked. “I would think a man in your position would be more focused on getting revenge on the Union soldier who took your family away from you.”

“The bullet-” McCoy began in disbelief.

“Can't hurt me,” Jim replied.

The eyes widened, and Jim stifled a sigh that someone who didn't need to breathe didn't actually need to have. “Yes, yes, I'm an evil creature of the night. You've heard the stories, Doctor. Things that go bump in the night and drain their victims of blood.”

“That's why you're here? To take my life?” McCoy laughed bitterly. “You couldn't have better timing.”

“I have no intention of ending your life, my dear doctor. I intend on giving you a better one,” Jim replied.

“There's nothing you could give me that would be _better_,” McCoy replied. “Nothing but death.”

“Nothing? Such pessimism, Doctor.”

“Everything I cared about is dead, or being destroyed,” McCoy hissed. The man closed in on Jim now, and Jim could recognize the push, the 'if I annoy him enough, he will kill me' that the Doctor was aiming for. Leonard McCoy was hardly the first desperate man who had tried such tactics.

The world was full of cowards, all too afraid to end their own wretched little lives. Jim rarely gave them the solace they wanted – there wasn't any fun in that kind of game for him.

But the doctor he had wanted for over a decade, and Jim's skin ached with impatience. “_Nothing_ would make you feel better? You don't want revenge against the man who lead this attack and killed your wife and daughter? You don't want to make them pay?”

“Yes,” McCoy answered. “God help me, I do.”

“God has very little to do with it, Doctor. Otherwise, _I_ wouldn't be here.” Jim cocked his head. “But you're a doctor – you're far too weak to go up against soldiers. I could fix that. I could make you better. Stronger.”

“I couldn't be one of you,” McCoy denied.

“Not even for Joanna?”

McCoy glanced around the rubble that was his home. Jim was sure that there were memories of a daughter who, in another summer or two, would have walked down an aisle on her daddy's arm.

An event that would never happen, given the way fate had been cruel to the good doctor.

“For Joanna, I could,” McCoy said softly, and though it was hesitant, it was as much of a concession as Jim needed.

Jim closed the gap between them, and claimed his prize.


End file.
